


The Photographer and His Muse

by Ada_Lovelaced, LumosLyra



Series: Praises, Pleasures & Perfection [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Illustrations, Multi, Photography, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29986467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ada_Lovelaced/pseuds/Ada_Lovelaced, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumosLyra/pseuds/LumosLyra
Summary: Antonin finds the perfect subject for his latest photography series.
Relationships: Antonin Dolohov/Hermione Granger, Antonin Dolohov/Hermione Granger/Thorfinn Rowle, Hermione Granger/Thorfinn Rowle
Series: Praises, Pleasures & Perfection [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833745
Comments: 41
Kudos: 121





	1. The Photographer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cecemarty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecemarty/gifts).



> I don't remember how it began but LumosLyra and I were thirsting over Antonin and his muggle photography, and so I had to draw him. Lumos write two drabbles of the photos and what becomes of them.   
> Love to cecemarty! Thanks for feeding my Antonin thirst!

He adjusted the lens, dark eyes shifting between the heavy camera in his hands and the woman perched on the bench. She was all soft curves and gentle smiles, brown eyes bright despite the fluttery wings of pixies in her belly to which she’d confessed earlier. She was draped in a soft, cotton shirt, tied at the waist, the peak of her nipple just visible beyond the shadows. His eyes caressed the curve of her hips and trailed along her supple calves as he made minute modifications to the settings on his camera. 

On any given day, Antonin found her stunning, but like this—radiance shining in her eyes, body flushed from their earlier coupling—she was ethereal.

And she was his. 

_ Theirs. _

He didn’t still know how he’d become so lucky, how Hermione had looked past all of his faults and transgressions to find the man beneath. To see and  _ love _ the small, quiet parts of him only Thorfinn had ever seen. 

But she had. 

He stepped forward, fingers brushing the line of her jaw before he tilted her head and captured her lips in something soft and sweet, full of promise. 

“You look beautiful,  _ solnyshko _ ” he said, nuzzling her nose.

He pulled back, admiring the pretty flush on her cheeks that always accompanied the compliments he or their partner bestowed. He’d tell her what she meant to him every hour of every day if it meant keeping that flush on her cheeks. “Relax, he’s going to love them.” 

“I hope so. I feel so… exposed,” she said as she leaned back, reclining on the bench. Riotous curls tumbled over her shoulder and her arm lifted to brush them back. 

The shutter whirred, capturing her pouted expression before she shifted once again. “Hermione, Thorfinn would live between your legs if you’d let him. The gods know he coaxes you into nakedness more often than not.” 

She laughed, another click of the shutter. “It’s different, on camera.” 

Antonin smiled, adjusting the focus and the flash. “Why do you think I’m always behind it?” 

“Antonin Dolohov, International Man of Mystery,” she teased, pushing her fingers through her curls and laying back on the bench. He pressed the shutter, capturing the supple peaks and valleys of her body as she moved, hands spreading over her curves. 

She bit her lip, “Do you really think he’ll like them?” 

“ _ Solnyshko, _ if you’re not careful, he’ll replace the landscapes in the foyer with photographs of you.” 

“Oh God, he would… wouldn’t he?” Hermione’s nose wrinkled but her smile remained, evidence of her fondness for their partner and he stepped forward, capturing the candid moment on film. She reached out to him and he met her halfway, twining their fingers together. She urged him forward with a gentle tug until he bent low. Delicate fingers, always stained with ink, slipped into his hair and she pulled him down, pressing up on her elbows until their mouths met. 

It was a rush of euphoria each and every time they kissed. Sparks arced over his skin and his magic ignited beneath, cooling to a simmer only when they separated. 

“Are you ready?” he asked, squeezing her fingers before lifting her hand and pressing his lips against her knuckles. 

He saw the heat bloom within her cheeks once more as she nodded. He stepped back, her fingers tugging at the knotted cord holding her blouse closed. The knot loosened, fabric pooling around her elbows to proudly reveal the scars her body bore with each new inch of revealed skin.

The shutter whirred. 

“Beautiful.” 


	2. His Muse

Hermione rushed out of the bedroom, one earring still in hand, when she heard a shout from the foyer. She skidded to a stop on stockinged feet, chest heaving, finding not the sight of someone injured in the flat, but that of Harry Potter with his hand desperately shielding his eyes and Draco Malfoy peering eagerly at the photographs lining the foyer. 

She froze when she realized the charm had gone dormant. Their magic had been sparking again, little flickers here and there of disturbance, though neither she, Thorfinn, nor Antonin could make heads or tails of it. They’d consummated their bond, so why their magic continued to fail periodically was a constant source of frustration. 

Harry groaned. “Tell me I imagined them. That’s not ‘Mione, it’s just a terrifying figment of my imagination.” 

“Dolohov must have taken these. God knows Rowle doesn’t have a creative bone in his giant body, even if he does make a bloody good Beater at Quidditch pick-ups.” Draco said, leaning forward, his finger hovering just above the line of shadow passing over shoulder from the way the sun was casting its light through their windows. “I wonder if Daph would do something like this.” 

Hermione smiled, despite her mortification at two of her friends seeing the boudoir shots Antonin had taken a month before. Just as predicted, Thorfinn had immediately framed and had them hung.  _ Pride of place _ , he’d said, and while she wouldn’t have minded the photographs hung in their bedroom, the foyer seemed rather distasteful until Antonin had charmed them to display the previous landscapes during visiting hours. 

Except the charm had malfunctioned and now, she was certain she’d never live this down. 

“I might need you  _ Obliviate _ me, Malfoy.” 

Draco waved him off, his eyes passing over the ample swell of Hermione’s decolletage. “These lines are exquisite. I wonder what he charges. You could probably talk Pansy into doing something like that. Little minx loves to take her clothes off.” 

“Oi, leave off.” Harry uncovered his eyes to shove Malfoy in the arm before catching sight of the photographs of Hermione once more and slapping his hand back over his eyes. 

Hermione couldn’t help but hide her chuckle behind her hand, quickly threading the hoop through her ear. She drew her wand from the pocket of her denims and flicked it towards the photographs, watching as they faded back into the familiar landscapes. 

Draco turned, catching her sheepish gaze as he rubbed at his arm. “Spoilsport.” 


End file.
